


Saving Each Other

by starry_eyezz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Anxiety, Dark Hermione Granger, Darkness, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Drug Use, F/M, Fighting Kink, Gen, Guilty Draco Malfoy, Pain, Passion, Post-War, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29550288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry_eyezz/pseuds/starry_eyezz
Summary: Set a few years after the Second Wizarding War/Battle of Hogwarts. Draco drowning in anger and pain and on Ministry orders must live the majority of the year in the Muggle world to unlearn his prejudices and make something of himself without magic-for the most part.  Hermione has also left the Wizarding world, but in her case by choice. She is numb and suicidal from the horrors of the war.  After an alarming event Draco intervenes, but will they both succumb to their darkness or save each other in the end?There is a lot of toxic and dark material.  Very adult, not really all that canon, but holds true to elements of the World that JKR created.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Ch. 1The Fall

tw: attempted suicide

Hermione never thought that this would become her life. She was supposed to thrive. She was meant to do great, incredible, groundbreaking things. Yet here she is, a shell of a person. She is alone. She is tired. Never did she think she would become so numb to the world. She can't even be sad about it. There's nothing left.

Lying on her torn and ragged old couch she stares endlessly at the ceiling, waiting for something to change. With her stomach in knots and her head pounding she knew she needed to get something into her system. Walking into the bathroom gives her chills and she runs her fingers through the tangles in her frizzy hair. As she reaches up into her cabinet she stops momentarily questioning her next action, but pushes the feelings down. She decides she has had enough of reality for the day. As she pops a few too many random pills into her mouth that she bought off a stranger in the alley she finally relaxes and lets the tension in her body fall away. Barely making it back to her couch, she slowly starts to drift away inside her own mind.

*Dream*

"Wait! Stop!" Hermione screamed hoarsely. Her friends looked at her in shock. It had been a surprise even to her that she said it. She just felt she needed to.

The air shifted and tightened. He stopped dead in his tracks and sucked in a breath. It couldn't possibly be? Why would anyone...? Why would she? He turned his head to see his classmates expressions, he needed to know how they reacted to this outburst, surely he would be met with looks of disgust and betrayal, but instead they looked scared, determined, and possibly even a little sad. He knew what he should do, he should keep walking, he should obey the Dark Lord one final time, just put his head down, do as he is told, find his family and get the hell out of there. He didn't need to fight, not with them, not for their cause--for either of their causes. He didn't owe these people anything.

Just as he was about to continue on his trek toward his family and the hoard of Death Eaters, there it was again, but softer this time.

"Please."

He tried...he tried so hard to ignore it, but there was something in her voice, something that he needed, something that called him back. 

Thoughts, memories, and frustration filled his head. He was so tired and so sick of fighting in a war he had no stake in, he just wanted to survive. He knew that Voldemorts crusade was ridiculous, and he even hated his parents a little for subjecting him to a childhood filled with such hate. But after witnessing the horrors and atrocities committed by Voldemoert, he knew his parents were also just trying to survive. Sure his parents were blood purists driven by years and years of elitist ideals and traditions, but they didn't want any of this, they couldn't. 

He took one last glance at his family and what was supposed to be his future, and reluctantly down at the mark on his arm, ashamed. This was not the life he chose, but he had a choice now. She had given him a choice, an option...a chance. He turned around, not looking in her direction as he buried himself amongst his classmates and Professors awaiting the wrath that was about to be unraveled. 

The last thing she remembers seeing was that glimmer of icy blonde hair and his broad shoulders rolling back, prepared for the fight ahead.

*End Dream*

Fuck..why is it always fucking him.

Without thinking she quickly moved herself over to the window of her flat. It was usually open, but this time she had to consciously make the effort to open the window so she could stand there. Right on the edge. 

He was there always in the back of her mind. He made her life hell. So did his family. She couldn't help but shudder and glance at the scar on her arm. He just watched it happen. He did nothing. She could never forgive him. 

Aside from the trauma caused that day, as she thought back on her time at Hogwarts and how he treated her...she had to admit she kind of liked it. Granted the slurs he threw at her did indeed cripple her for days on end in the first couple of years, she was so young and never understood why it was that he hated her so badly. As the years went on, she began to understand the circumstances of his...life-to a point. The kind of pressure he must have been under, he was young and impressionable just like the rest of them. She will never excuse his actions or in one case inaction....but she knows, somehow she just knows he wouldn't be lost forever. She realized there was a difference between bad and evil. She has seen evil, and Malfoy, well he was just damaged, and quite frankly an absolute arse. But, when she thought about that young Malfoy throwing insults and being a pretentious little prat, she remembers that hate isn't inherited, it's taught. She couldn't always blame him for the sins of his parents. And hell, his parents? No one would want to be at the receiving end of a raging mad Lucius Malfoy..

She learned to ignore his words and devious actions, and while they still hurt, she was determined to never let him see her waiver. She began to look forward to their interactions because it was never the same with him. One day he would be tame and simply try to out wit her or provoke her by insulting her intelligence. Other days he was nasty and would yell until his face was red. Sometimes she could swear he was almost flirting with her, this usually involved some sexual innuendo relating to dominance or superiority and ended with a mockingly irritating wink. It was intense and toxic. Every time they were in the vicinity of each other the oxygen would leave the room. She enjoyed the challenge, the tension. She would think about him more than she likes to admit, all those nights at Hogwarts when she was just feeling...off. Those nights when being wholesome and happy just felt so ingenuine. She hated that she always had to be a role model, or the annoying teachers pet with a hero complex. She played the role they assigned her, but she knew there was more to her than that, she just couldn't show it. But she could with him. What she felt toward him wasn't love or even romantic, she felt he could free her. 

She knew what was morally right and wrong and would always fight for good, but she wanted to explore the world in a new way and indulge in her darker impulses. She desperately wanted to know how he lived, what motivated him, how damaged he really was, and how bad she wanted a taste of his world. He was complex and mysterious like the ultimate riddle she needed to solve. It was addicting. She liked that she was able to express a darker side of herself, where she could give in and throw back everything he threw at her. 

There is always a craving, a hunger for the dark and demented...to always wonder what it would be like if the evil had won out. Not necessarily Voldemort and his genocide of course, but to let your inner darkness fester and creep out of you. To let it consume you. To have someone by your side that understands your pain and travels down that path with you. He could be that person..

There was such an intense anger towards him and she hated herself for it. Her relationship with him was just something she needed, which made her even more upset. Why should she wanted to be treated so badly? Why did she want to treat him so badly?

She was jealous of him. 

Granted she hasn't laid eyes on him since the Battle of Hogwarts, but she knew he was at least living authentically. It probably wasn't easy for him though. Ron and Harry always told her how much of an outcast he is, even after helping the Order. His parents both locked away in Azkaban. He was alone, just like her. But she imagined him at least being happy with the fact that he is so boldly himself. He didn't need to smile for pictures, apologize to anyone, re-tell war stories, or act like a saint 24 fucking 7. People expected him to be cold and harsh. Everyone was intimidated and no one bothered him--oh how nice that must be. 

Well Hermione hasn't felt herself in years. Honestly she doesn't even know who she is anyway. She hated her life. They won the war, her friends survived...well most of them. But she saw and experienced the horrors of war and all it ensued. She wasn't sure how to move on. The Brightest Witch of her Age and still she didn't know a damn thing about real life. 

She never figured out how to cope and move on. Logically she knew life was normal again and it could continue on as it had before, but she couldn't do it. Everything felt wrong, there were people missing from her life, dead and alive. 

She was floating in a pool of confusion and frustration just waiting to be submerged and finally at peace. There were too many thoughts, too many worries, and too many emotions to continue on in her daily life. 

It had been 5 years now. And she was an absolute wreck. Just tired of surviving and she definitely wasn't living. 

As she looked out over London, standing on the edge of window she thought of all her friends. She hadn't even seen Harry or Ron in at least 4 months. She avoided them most of the time and always had an excuse to get out of their get to togethers. She knew they would be okay. They found a way to cope with the war. They can cope with this too.

Hermione sucked in a shaky breath and let out a small whimper. Her body was numb but in this moment her mind was alive and full of wild intensity. 

I guess today is the day, she thought. Time for me to be ground breaking.

She was tired, sick of life passing her by and feeling nothing but stuck and broken. She just wanted to be done. She looked down. It's not a big drop. But it's enough. 

As she closed her eyes, her balance waivered and her grip on the side of the window tightened, her knuckles white as snow. Wanting so bad to give into this dark impulse, she thought of him.

She decided to let the wind take her, there were do theatrics or impulsive movements but simply the feeling of letting go. And that's what she did.

The fall was so quick she had no time to process what she had just done. It was simply over. 

As Hermione opened her eyes, she was blinded by the bright grey sky above her. Every bone and muscle in her body was beaten and ablaze with pain. There was a ringing in her ears and judging by the hot wet feeling all around her, she was bleeding. 

No, no, no, no, no. SHIT. She knew she was still here and she would never forgive herself. That drop should have killed her. How did it not kill her??

Just as this realization crept into her mind a dark and brooding figure appeared over her. He knelt down and screamed her name, but it was too muffled and she couldn't make out the voice. Afraid and frantic but unable to move, Hermione focused on the figure before her and just as the pain of her fall took her under once again, she saw him.

It was always fucking him. 


	2. Ch. 2 The Anticipation

tw: Panic attack

"Granger.....Granger. Oh bloody hell. GRANGER!"

The man standing before her was devilishly handsome, but very obviously worn and weary. He was large and looming. He appeared to have gained quite a bit of muscle. He still carried a few mannerisms with him from their school days, but he was more grown now, more mature, and much more broken. 

She waited. Still disoriented from her fall, she didn't want to move yet, let alone speak. What could she say to him? 

Studying him, she carefully took notice of the bags under his eyes, and the scars amd bruises all over his face. His hair was the same icy color, but longer now, and messy. Very rugged 

"Hello? What the bloody hell were you thinking?" Draco spoke with an irritated tone but urgent nonetheless.

"I uh....well...um" She couldn't put it into words. What would she say, she was supposed to be perfect, 1/3 of the Golden Trio, fantastically happy and successful?? No, she was suicidal and a failure. What would he think of her? Probably not much aside from a few judgmental thoughts and snide comments. 

She looked at him again and noticed something strange. Blood all over his hands. Her blood. Her dirty, filthy blood. The sight of this and all her memories of his constant discrimination at school made her grin slightly. 

"What are you smiling for huh? Help is on the way, are you gonna be alright?"

She still hasn't answered him.

His growing frustration was visible in his stormy gray eyes piercing through her. 

"I'll be okay" she lied. Everything in her body was screaming in agony.

He rolled his eyes and gave a hushed audible sound of disbelief. But just before he rose from the ground he placed something in her jacket pocket.

She attempted to grab his hand or even the object placed in her jacket but pain shot through her entire body with the slightest movement of her arm. She couldn't help but scream out in pain. 

His hand balled into a fist and tensed. The very sound of her in pain made him stop and turn his head slightly, thinking maybe he should go back, but the medics and a crowd of people suddenly flood past him and he was gone. 

____________

When Hermione woke up she recognized what seemed to be a hospital room. Not St. Mungo's, so whoever called for help was most likely a muggle.

She saw white all around and could smell the stench of bleach. 

A man in a doctor's coat calmly entered the room. 

"Well, Ms. Granger, you took quite a spill. You're in a stable condition now, we just don't want you to move too much, you've got a few ribs out of place, a severe concussion, and a few broken bones. Rest assured you are safe here and we will assist you in any way you need."

He paused.

"I uh..also called in the hospitals psychiatrist so you could...talk. It's nothing to be afraid of, it's just routine in situations such as yours."

"Well what is my situation exactly Doctor?" she didn't know where this attitude came from.

"Well, I believe you are to be under quite a bit of mental and emotional distress and you made the attempt, well it was, you had an accident and-"

"Ha, and accident." she couldn't help but laugh.

"Anyways I will leave you to it then. The psychiatrist should be coming by in about a half an hour."

She looked away, out the window in her room. First floor-what a shame. 

"Hey wait...where are my clothes, the ones that I was wearing when I was brought in?"

"They have been placed in a biohazard bag due to the blood, they are currently in the bathroom connected to this room, the nurse can bring them to you if you wish to keep them, if not I can dispose of them right now if you-"

"NO! Um I mean, that will be fine thank you, you can let the nurse know I would like to keep them." 

"Very well Ms. Granger."

She sighed. She knew he put something in her jacket but what? She tried to ignore the thought momentarily, she didn't want to think about him. But she couldn't help it. She just knew she had to get out of here. She didn't have her wand so casting diagnostics on herself or apparating away was out of the question. 

She just wanted to get back to her flat but how? She was not about to call Harry or Ron. Harry would worry far too much and it would just be too awkward with Ron. She hadn't felt normal around him since she broke it off. They were still friends in a way, but she couldn't deal with that, not right now.

She called the nurse in and asked if she could use the phone. She called the only other person she could think of that would understand. 

\--------------

"Hello?"

"Hey Pansy, it's uh Hermione Granger. I need a favor."

When Pansy showed up she looked just as she always did. Badass. Hermione was always so jealous of Pansy, she was dangerously beautiful. She wasn't cute, she was stunning. She had grown a bit since their days at Hogwarts, but still had her same jagged bob haircut with pitch black hair. 

Pansy managed to get Hermione her clothes and help her out of the hospital past the doctors and nurses. When they got back to Hermione's flat, Pansy didn't even ask, but marched herself inside. 

"Well little miss perfect, care to give an explanation?"

"Not really."

"Well then at least a thank you should be in order?"

"Thank you. Just don't tell anyone about this. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, okay, I totally believe you." 

They hadn't talked much since leaving Hogwarts given their history. Pansy definitely didn't help the Order, she fled before the fighting even began to avoid consequences all together. When Voldemort was finally defeated, the Ministry had many more prominent targets to apprehend than a Slytherin school girl. About a year after the final battle Hermione decided to reach out to Pansy. She was tired of talking to her friends, they were so positive it was toxic, all they did was nurture her and she was over it. She needed someone to be real with her. Hermione thought that Pansy was the only person who would understand how she felt. Pansy had to overcome a few prejudices and she did, but she was still always a stone cold bitch and Hermione saw it as a good change in pace. They weren't particularly close, but then again Hermione wasn't really close with anyone these days.

"Well when you want to stop being a dramatic little bitch, let me know. Don't throw yourself out the window again or I'll kill you."

Hermione laughed. She was aware of the severity of her situation but just didn't care, it was nice to hear Pansy's sarcastic tone and to know that she had someone who cared about her-genuinely. 

"Yeah, I'll talk to you later Pans, see ya."

Hermione sat in silence for the remainder of the night. Her body ached and her mind was racing. The anxiety grew gradually and she knew what was coming. She felt the tension grow in her neck and it made her head spin. She needed some kind of relief. She was sick of feeling like she had no control. Her chest started getting heavy and her pulse raced. It was a damn panic attack again. 

She wasn't going to call Pansy back, she had gotten through enough of these on her own that she knew she didn't need someone to be there with her. She still wanted someone there though. It never gets easier. The feeling of losing all control and being completely alone, especially when it's not your own decision.

What brought her out of it was the sense of normalcy that her phone calls with Ron and Harry brought. Due to the number of people that witnessed her incident one of them found out from the long line of gossip and naturally told the other. They were concerned obviously and demanded to come see her but she wouldn't let them, she even put up anti- apparation wards around her home along with closing the Floo network in her fireplace. She didn't feel any better or less anxious after the phone call, but a sense of calm numbness washed over her. She didn't want to deal with them. She didn't want to deal with anyone. Except....

It was a paper that was crumpled up in the pocket of her jacket. It just had an address on it, and she was determined to follow it. She knew it would lead her to him, and she was going to get some answers. 

Hermione begrudgingly changed into new clothes that had been sitting on her floor for the past few weeks, she didn't have any clean ones and figured the last time she wore these was a month ago so they would do just fine. She knocked back a shot of Fire Whiskey and cast a quick healing charm, grabbed her wand and headed out the door.

As she approached the address that was on the card she got a rotten feeling in her gut. She wondered if this was his home, why would he be living in the muggle world? This was all a mistake. She doesn't care about him. She doesn't care about anything. She is done. And if he really gave any damn about her at all he would have stayed and not disappeared as she laid dying in the street. 

Leaving a damn note in her pocket. What a coward. 

As Hermione turned to leave she heard a rough, deep voice. 

"Wait. Stop."

She shuddered. It was all too familiar.

She let out a small grunt and shook her head- still turned away from him.

"Please"

What an arrogant twat. 

Hermione wondered what was he thinking, what could he possibly want.

She turned and saw him standing in the door way.

He didn't say another word but instead titled his head back as if to say follow me.

And she did. 

God knows why.


	3. Ch. 3  The Irony

Anger has become the focal point of Draco Malfoy's life, well anger and pain. Pain is the thing that drives him, the unrelenting, unnerving, truly deserved pain he feels each and every day.... at least he believes it's deserved. 

He can admit now, after all these years he was truly awful, well he's still pretty awful but now it's just because he's an asshole, not because of some stupid blood purist shit. 

His whole childhood was an absolute mess, between the regular stuff like the raging hormones and teen angst to the traumatic and scarring lessons engraved into his head about blood purity, tradition and legacy, to the devastating things like abusive and toxic family relations and the Dark Lord himself taking up residence in your house and tasking you with murder. 

Draco grew up in a household that had no tolerance for anything less than perfect. 

And it was fucking exhausting. 

Always playing a part, trying to please his parents, working so hard to attain things that he doesn't really think even matter anymore. He was angry. Angry that he was alone, angry at himself for his past and his mistakes, he was angry at his parents, angry at his professors, angry at the world.

Everyday for as long as he could remember he has felt physically and mentally defeated. He was hurting-everywhere, all the time. 

A therapist once told him that meant he had trauma. Well no shit he had trauma. But he doesn't know what to do about it. There is simply too much to unpack so he figures he'll keep it locked away for as long as possible. 

The only trouble is keeping it locked away often resulted in massive explosions and fits of rage that ended with a wide array of physical injuries. Almost suddenly Draco would take out his anger on the closest thing to him-usually never other people, but it's not true to say it's never happened.

Then came the pain. He would get cut or bruised in whatever way he decided to lash out. There were always consequences to his anger and they were always painful. Physically and emotionally. 

The pain he felt inside didn't usually happen until late at night though, when his thoughts would finally quiet. An overarching sense of anguish and suffering would overcome his whole being and leave him writhing in agony over the circumstances of his whole god damn life. 

When all those feelings pile up--the anger, sadness, frustration, confusion, betrayal.....that's what is painful--the amount and intensity of every dark and depressing feeling known to man. He was never sure what exactly he was feeling, he only knew that pain stood out against them all. 

He has got a lot of hate for the world and to be fair the world hates him right back, but at least in the Muggle world no one knows him or his history. He gets a clean slate. Only, he knows of all the blood that has been scrubbed away. 

Draco now has to live in Muggle London for the majority of the year, only allowed back in Wizarding World every 3 months for one week. It's part of the deal he made with the Ministry. Total bullshit.

They deemed Draco's decision to help the Order brave and admirable but they didn't excuse his previous actions and prejudices. They decided to put him on a probation of sorts, to unlearn the years and years of hatred toward muggles. They decided he must become a part of their world, a fully immersive experience, living, working, sleeping all among the people he had been taught to despise. 

He didn't have a home there to go back to anyway as Malfoy Manor had been seized and taken by the Ministry after the war. The Ministry also required him to earn his own way in their world by acquiring a job, making his own money, finding a flat and providing for himself--all without the help of magic. He was still allowed his wand , but they put him under careful watch and he was instructed only to use magic in emergency situations. 

There wasn't a word for the emotions Draco felt when the Ministry notified him of his new situation. He has already suffered through war, his parents locked away, his home gone, and now he had to make another transition into a foreign world all alone, with no money or opportunities. He almost just asked for Azkaban. 

But no, he knew Azkaban would be the death of him. He did want a chance, a choice to at least try and make something of himself. It all started with a choice. 

That battle was the turning point for him. He made a good choice, finally. It wasn't the smartest choice, it definitely wasn't the safest but something inside told him to have some of that bloody Gryffindor courage and take a risk. It wasn't just something, it was her.

Hermione fucking Granger. 

Where does he even begin.....She was incredibly irritating, honestly just a giant know it all with an attitude problem. He hated how smart she was, or how smart she was trying to be, it was like she was overcompensating for something. 

Just the sight of her in school was enough to derail the rest of his day. Maybe it was because she was the walking epitome of everything he was supposed to hate.

But the thing was he didn't hate her, and that just put him through more pain. He wanted to know her, to spend time with her, and understand her, but every time an effort was made all that came out was a few distasteful slurs and a ridiculous amount of eye rolling and unnecessary scoffing. Every time they met he tried to switch it up, some days he felt a little more playful, some days he almost thought his flirting was too obvious, and some days he ended up being just plain despicable. 

More times than not he ended up being a total prat. She just had something about her. It made him want to grab her by that wild, flowing hair, push her up against the wall and show her exactly how mad she makes him. Obviously that scenario was out of the question so he settled for rude comments and sneers from across the Great Hall. 

He tried to ignore all these feelings. He really tried. But she just got under his skin in the worst way.

It was just the way she carried herself--without a care in the world. She didn't know the real repercussions of life. She was able to live free and as herself- authentically. She had no one to please- everyone adored her. 

Especially him. 

But he could never show it and he hated himself for it. 

He adored her, but he hated her. 

The rivalry, the bad blood (literally), the distrust, the jealously, EVERYTHING. There was too much history there....too much there just begging to go wrong. 

He knew they could never be together and that only made it worse.

There is such a fine line between love and hate and Draco has been walking it for so long eventually he was bound to fall one way or another. 

Once he realized that the hopes of any kind of relationship were diminished, he decided if he couldn't love, he would hate.

Hate is all he knew.

Right up until that Battle. When she called out to him. She gave him a chance. She wanted him to stay. 

Of course she would pull such an outlandish move. She really could be quite daft sometimes, but oh was he ever so grateful for that stupid courage. 

He hasn't seen the witch since the Battle. He assumes she's working some esteemed Ministry job by now fighting for rights for Merlin knows every kind of creature out there, engaged to Weasley no doubt and living a wonderful life. 

It made him sick. He never really thought they would ever end up together anyways, he is sure they would literally kill each other. But just the thought of being able to call that untamable, proud, infuriating, genuine, insane witch his....really makes him feel something he has never truly felt before. 

Happy. 

Too bad happy is overrated and out of reach. 

All he has is his pain, he has to hold on to the one thing giving him feeling. Without it he feels he would simply fade away. 

And the pain only magnifies when he is out on the street walking, running errands, that he suddenly watches a familiar face plummeting down toward the pavement below. 

And for Merlin's sake he sure hopes the Ministry understands this is to be an emergency. 

He uses a cushioning charm that he once used in quidditch to make sitting on the broom more comfortable. He isn't even sure if it'll work. 

It all happened so fast and just as the woman hits the ground he was able to just cushion the fall-only slightly. 

He knows whatever is about to happen next, whatever this event brings, however his life changes, will only cause him more pain. 

Good thing he's so used to it. 


	4. Ch. 4 The Realization

He had led her down the hall and up a few flights of stairs to his presumed flat. It was rather nice, old brick and black accents all over. On her way in she noticed there was a bookstore around around corner. She couldnt remember the last time she actually read a book. As they walked in silence she wondered why on Earth he would be living in Muggle London…

As she stepped through the door she took note of how clean it was, well almost clean. There was rubbish shoved under his couch, and dishes stacked in the sink, a picture hanging on the wall barely covering a hole in the drywall. It was a perfect representation of who Malfoy was. A pristine and reserved exterior with chaos and secrets and disgust residing inside. 

The room was tense. Only their nerves electrified the space between them waiting for the other to make a sound. 

“Why am I here?”

Silence. 

He shifted his weight and leaned against the wall, jaw flexed and tight with discomfort. He is so precise with each movement he makes, direct and intentional-wasting no energy. Every movement is a decision carefully calibrated. He let's out a sigh. 

“Well then if I’m not going to get an explanation I’ll just leave.”

“No, no just give me a minute.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant. Why had he asked her to come all the way here if he didn’t even know why? She wasn't going to put up with his games. Not today. 

He took a few deep and shaky breaths. He was nervous. He was stumbling and flustered- a new look on him. 

“I don’t even know where to start with you. But I know I owe you one. You asked me to stay, all those years ago at the final battle. As much as I hate to admit it, I’d probably be in Azkaban without you right now.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, was Draco Malfoy grateful? Actually thanking her?

“And when I saw you….when I saw what happened earlier I knew I had to do something. So now we’re even. That's it."

She didn’t even know what to say. There was no way to comprehend any part of this situation.   
Anger, disbelief, frustration, all overwhelming her, until she realized what he meant. He thinks they “saved” each other. 

Well no part of her needed saving. No one needed to know just how fucked up she was, no one needed to see how weak and vulnerable…..She didn’t need saving she just needed it to be over, and Draco Malfoy of all people stood in the way of that. 

“You think we’re even?”

“Listen I actually can not fucking stand you and to be honest I don’t even know what I was thinking but I saw something happening that I couldn't ignore, Merlin knows I wanted to, but I think at least a thank you is in order, or do you think you're so special and so far above me that you don't think you even have to acknowledge a former death eater let alone thank one?" 

The nerve of him. Always making it about the past and status and superiority. He doesn't even know how little she really cares about all that. 

“Look, I didn’t need you. I knew what I was doing and it was what I wanted, so I’m not so sure I am thankful…..In fact I’m not, so no we are not even. I think you just wanted to feel good about yourself, to do something to “pay me back” and get rid of the enormous amount of guilt you must feel for the horrendous shit you did in school. Well I am sorry to say but I am not your out, I am not a charity case, or a debt to be repaid, I am just a person and I was finally about to let go of all the pain I have been carrying with me, but because of you now I have to deal with even more, so I hope you get to hold on to this guilt for the rest of your goddamn life, because you know nothing about me, you don’t care about me, you only act for yourself and that’s the way it’s always been.” 

He sprang from the wall filled with fury. Inches from her face he was breathing hard and she could see the frustration in his eyes. She could see how badly he wished he could throw her from a roof instead of saving her from the fall. She kept egging him on. 

"Sure you think you saved me but it's just because you're still writhing in pain and guilt from when you couldn't save me or should I say when you didn't even try. You sat there and watched. Is that what this is all about?" 

He looked shaken. The anger had vanished from his face. Where there was once the flaming red anger of a dragon was now the pale expression of man who had had been caught. She had him. She made him revisit that night and all that guilt. And he deserved it. 

“Maybe I am guilty, maybe I am selfish, but at least I have half the mind to know not to throw myself out of a window.”

That's all he's got? He doesn't get to get off that easy. 

“Oh yeah then tell me, if you treat yourself so well, why are you so scarred? Why do you have bruises and cuts and holes in your wall?”

She heard a faint curse escape his mouth. He was frustrated. 

“Get out.”

“Oh I get it, you can talk all you want, but as soon as someone gives it back to you it’s all over?”

There was just a sudden movement of his body, no longer was he inches from her but was swinging the door open and fleeing to a room in his flat away from the door. 

Obviously it was time to go.  
How immature. 

She knew there was more to all this than he was letting on. She realized she wasn't going to be able to let this go.  
Fuck. 

She didn't want to go home, she couldn’t go home, not yet. There was too much empty space, too much silence. Too much just calling for her to do something stupid. 

Although maybe something stupid was just what she needed. 


End file.
